Battle On, My Daughters
by Dusty Deacon
Summary: A stalemate is unacceptable. Perhaps one brilliant mind can break it... perhaps two? Rated T for mild language, slightly gory scenes, and T(errific). Enjoy.
1. Chapter One

First-ish story, Long-time lurker, Please be Gentle, Leave a Review, et cetera.

I'm neither militarily inclined nor have I played Kancolle, though I have watched some of the animations; liberties will be taken at times to deliver a more interesting story.

 **Disclaimer: Universe and characters belong to their respective owners. I own my OC's and the plot.**

Enjoy.

}*{ BO,MD }*{

The sea is a calm glass, a sensual lover, an aloft beauty, a cruel mistress. Her whims change as quickly as the winds and waves. Yet it is only a thin cover for a grave of thousands of hulls—civilian and military and millions of souls—explorers, lovers, and soldiers; all carrying their curiosity, their dreams, their **spite**.

On this day, the sea disgorged its cursed hulls upon the surface and unleashed the Abyss; warships their vanguards and civilian ships their suppliers. Once rusted and speckled with barnacles, these hulls where given the body of an inhumanly beautiful female and armed with eldritch forces with power equal to their former armament. With such power, they attacked any sea-worthy vessel across the seven seas. The Atlantic is viciously saturated with prowling submarines. The Pacific is filled with the keening wail of diving planes and the far off thunder of large caliber rifles. The Mediterranean found itself host to many small attackers indiscriminately bombarding coastlines, altogether causing devastating initial casualties.

At first, each country deployed their steel fleets against this threat, certain it was a rival nation finally making its moves. Smart munitions hit ghosts, electronic eyes saw nothing, every iota, staple, and cornerstone of a modern 21st Century naval fighting force proved borderline useless in the face of the Abyss. Steel fleets after steel fleets were lost. Mankind steadily lost hope.

The island nation of Japan was the first to make headway in driving back the menace. Through rituals and prayer, they have summoned their own daughter of the sea—kanmusu, or shipgirls. Like the Abyssals, they are warship hulls of World War Era vessels summoned into an inhumanly beautiful female form. Unlike the Abyssals, they are filled with hope and a desire to defend humans from the eldritch abominations. The information was quickly sent out to every country with a substantial naval presence during the World Wars.

More and more shipgirls were summoned and the Abyssal Annihilation quickly became a hard stalemate. Development of anything that gave the shipgirls and humanity an edge was quickly countered and fielded by the Abyssals. Desperate for an end to the conflict and the return of oversea trading routes, the world's navies decided to field a very large amount of small units consisting of six shipgirls of mixed nationalities led by one admiral from a small base—a floating platform or an island, near enemy-held waters. Using this thought process, humanity hopes to eventually surround the Abyss, corner them, and then annihilate the source.

}*{ -A/N- }*{

Next up, meeting the team, the MC's, OC's, and the antagonists.

These are my thoughts on how the universe is to be presented. This story is kind of not really planned but going with what I feel like putting to paper day by day. Do leave a critique/thoughts. Cheers.


	2. Chapter Two

Thanks for sticking around. Tissues, mouthwash, and soap needed later on in this chapter. Maybe some bleach as well.

 **Disclaimer: Universe and recognizable characters belong to their owners. I own my OC's and the plot.**

Enjoy.

}*{ BO,MD }*{ 2 }*{

Smoke and ash, collapsing infrastructure, scorching avgas-fueled flames, and the scent of melting metals filled the air over a floating platform base. A radioman flinches as a shell lands too close for comfort. "I, William Terse, am the last survivor of Base Ivy".

Overlooking the harbor and the waters beyond, he sees the sky tinged a foreboding purple and the sea stained a ruby red. In the sea are hulks of shipgirls mangled until only its type can be observed. "Our two Fletchers put up a hell of lot of flak but there were just too many planes. The Abyssals have overwhelmed them and proceeded to pummel our remaining heavy cruisers to dust."

The piers are bombed. The Factory has collapsed. The Docks are no more, repair fluid mixing with fuel and blood. "Admiral Dalina Frieda, all staff, and almost all existing infrastructure have been destroyed. Last report, Radioman Terse out."

He idly wonders if it was from a battleship type rifle. His face is stained purple from the light. Sweat drips from his reading hairline like a light rain. Tears stream down his cheeks into his honey brown moustache. His shaking hands have dropped the transmitter, yet remained steady as he slowly loaded six rounds into the late admiral's S&W M29 revolver.

"One for Maya, who kept us all sane." _Clink_

"One for Pringles, she never deserved this." _Clink_

"One for Heerman, who was like a daughter to me" _Clink_

"One for Johnston, that little shit." He smiled fondly. _Clink_

"One for my mates _ **,**_ may their sorrows guide my shots." His teeth ground together in determination. _Clink_

"One for… for my dear Delilah, I'll see you soon." Fresh tears pour from his eyes. His hand slips. _Clatter_

He wipes his eyes and closes the chamber quickly-a cannon has just punched through the radio room's regulation plastic door. The cannon withdrew and the hole was then filled with the grinning visage of _**wrong.**_

* **BANG** _snick_ * **BANG** _snick_ * **BANG** _snick_ *CLICK*

The face quickly withdrew.

He cursed the empty chamber.

The door flew inwards and shattered into thousands of fragments.

William reflexively covered his face and momentarily forgot about the gun. He lowered them just in time to see a figure glide in.

Armoured boot heels led to long tight black leggings riding salaciously low on its hips. Its torso was encased in an arctic white body sleeve. A massive grinning gorget jutted out like a ship's prow, resting upon its shoulders and dipping into its modest cleavage. Loose black elbow long gloves gripped a 2.5 meter long staff that seems to suck in light while reflecting a subtle poisonous green light as the purple light played over its surface. The other gloved hand brushed away the debris that landed on its ragged, layered matte-black cloak. A single thin white stripe can be seen crossing the cloak from the right shoulder to the left hip. The most distinguishing item of this figure was its hat. Resembling an over sized bunker-ized toothed tricorne hat and armed with four turrets with two dual-purpose cannons each and four large tentacles freely floating as though riding an ethereal wind.

Radioman William Terse took this all in at once. In another life, he would have considered this creature a regal beauty whose affection he would strive for ceaselessly. Now with his fiance dead and nothing else to lose, he only raised his late fiance's gun to its face. In the time between aiming the barrel and pulling the trigger, he noted that its emotionless face was marred by a large scar stretching from its mouth's right corner to its right ear.

- _Heh, good job girls. Least ya injured the fucker didnja?- *_ **BANG***

The .44 bullet struck the scar, gouging it deeper but the creature stood still, its frost gold eyes staring at him emptily, a wince not even clearing its thoughts.

He knew it was futile to continue.

- _Dalina, I shall definitely join you soon, in the next life.-_

"Fuck you! Fuck your mothers. Fuck your toasters. And fuck your everything! Especially fuck you toasters for fucking up **my** everything!"

Perhaps the stress became too much for him. Perhaps he wanted to scream his vengeance to the heavens. Perhaps he wanted to rage against the injustice. Perhaps he was afraid of preferential Abyssal hospitality. Regardless, the wall behind his head was thoroughly painted with fresh medium. The paint glistened with a purple sheen.

The rain starts to fall.

The communication array lay scattered around the building.

}*{

The Wo-Class Aircraft Carrier is a very dangerous adversary. When supported by a destroyer screen, battleship support, it is become truly, a whirlwind of death. This Wo-Class is one of the first of the Abyss to rise. Though older than many of its short lived siblings, it is a learned predator with many tricks and methods.

The Re-Class is a new ship, a combination of a destroyer's speed, a battleship's armour and armament, a carrier's complement, but with the experience of a dumb tuna. With the proper training, it has the potential to be the next greatest of all standard Abyssal classes.

Wo looked at the Re nursing its face due to shock over pain behind her. The garish scar on its face further underlined the aura of amusement directed towards the Re class. The Re pouted but then peeked around the Wo at the human who attacked them.

R- _Confusion._ -R

W- _Finality_ -W

It inspected the body before looking at the weapon.

R _-Curiosity_ -R

W- _Continue-_ W

The Re picked up the weapon and mimed shooting it at imaginary targets throughout the room.

W- _Calm Urgency_ -W

R- _Pleading-_ R

W _-...-_ W

R- _Meek Acceptance-_ R

The two Abyssal Capital Ships left the burning base and rejoined their comrades. Two Ru-Class Battleships stood vigil at the port, watching and observing everything. Dressed in a tight smart black dress suit, they wielded two massive tower shields with six large rifles per shield. This devastating combination of armour and firepower makes them excellent bastions of Abyssal might. Two more boats are on scene combing through the wreckage of the base. The Chi-Class torpedo cruiser is a nimble fighter armed with devastating torpedoes. They ride upon an amalgamation of an eldritch abomination and a jet ski. However it is a glass cannon-it can not take what it gives out.

The two Chi-Classes finished their salvaging of resources when the Flagship Wo proclaimed all clear on channels. They then loaded some of the goods onto the Ru's and then departed the ransacked naval base.

W- _Course set. Move out-W_

}*{

A Pacific Director Base is deep underground, further reinforced by several meters of concrete on all sides. It is defended by concrete pillboxes facing the ocean armed with repaired, jury-rigged, salvaged, or new coastal guns in a chain that makes the Maginot Line look like a playground trench. Unlike the Maginot, North and South America _somehow_ found a way to fund a wall spanning the Aleutians to Argentina filled with such installations. Though rare, coastal attacks are nevertheless repelled thanks to the wall.

In P.D.B. CA.13, an ensign rushed through the hallways with loose leaves of paper almost spilling from his arms. His thoughts wandered to the wall outside. - _They're holding up fine now, but what if our line in the Pacific collapses!? I must get these reports to Director 13!-_

"Sir! You must see these reports!" A very frazzled ensign shouted from the doorway to the Director's room. The secretary was fidgeting behind him, wringing her hands and trying to convey to the ensign to at least make an appointment.

"Our bases are failing, if this continues, we may have a possible breach that will erupt into Californian soil! Sir!"

"When did this come to your attention?" The Director didn't bother looking up from her paperwork.

"Just now! Eight bases have just gone dark one after the other! If this continues…!"

The Director held up a finger. "Mavis, I'll take care of this gentlemen. Please, return to your duties." She turned back to the ensign with a sigh. "Yes, it'll be difficult now, but we have a plan for this already. Or did you forget?" A glance over her glances confirms her suspicions.

"I know you are new here, but this has happened before. I thank you for bringing this to me as soon as possible, but do keep a calm head above your shoulders and between your ears for the next time you make an impromptu report." She stands on front of the ensign. "Now, what is the protocol, Ensign Gallahad?"

"In the event of a breach, rotate all acting Admiral-Commanders and replace vacated spots with top scorers of our SeaDEF program.", the ensign recited. "But sir, it doesn't seem enough! We're only prolonging a stalemate that has no end in sight!"

"I agree, those protocols were hastily created but they have served us well for now. But I've got a fellow in mind. He will break through this."

She turned back to the file on her desk.

"He must."

}*{

_/For P.D.B. Directors & Higher Only/_

Candidate Number [ 3 ] of [ 7 ]

Name: Septimus Dillard

Age: 22

Rank: Top 2% of [ 3655 ] candidates.

About: Displays a near unhealthy determination to keep subordinates alive. Eager to learn and research all aspects of recommended curriculum. Gets along well with all members of staff. Overly cautious in determining plans of attack-unable to react within desirable margins to spontaneous events.

Notes: War-Orphan. Father, captain of a PT boat, killed in First Wave (Age 9). Mother killed during coastal shelling of pre-wall Oregon(Age 11). Away at Academy during both events. No remaining family.

Recommended Ships:

CV: HMS Ark Royal

BB: IJN Yamato & IJN Haruna

CH: KGM Admiral Hipper

DD: USS Fletcher & IJN Shimakaze

End

}*{ -A/N- }*{

I listened to "The Enforcer" by Simon Viklund whilst describing our Wo-ntagonist. Fitting, I think. Wow, nearly 1.5k words. Helluva fun write when the plot bunnies are rampaging. I like spelling armour as armour, color as colour, et al. I use both but adding a "u" just looks nicer. It bugs me when spell check flags them with that red squiggly.

Again, I have not played Kancolle, nor am I militarily inclined. I will try to make it as accurate as possible but most of all, en-bubbling-joyable.

Ignore the real world, you are here to read some gods damned fanfiction. Don't let the real world ruin that for you. Escape and enjoy.

Thanks for choosing to read Battle On, My Daughters. Any critiques, comments, and marshmallows, send 'em all my way.


	3. Chapter Three

Good gracious, 100+ bois reading this!?

Oof, thanks for **1twright12, joanjoanleonar, and oni1123** for following this awesome trainwreck!

Raising a glass to **Abdi Shabill729** and **Lord Adhes** for favoriting and following this as well!

 **Disclaimer : Universe and recognizable characters belong to their respective owners. I own my OC's, plot, and some marshmallows.**

Enjoy.

}*{ BO,MD }*{ 3 }*{

A Sikorsky S-61 Transport chopper rumbles its way at 240 kph. Its load for this flight are modules laced with Oceanic Magic, two pilots, and seven individuals. Each module contains an army of "fairies", small beings specialized in certain tasks and summoned alongside Shipgirls. The module can be easily maneuvered by one human into position. There, it will unfold and create a shipgirl-friendly node-docks, rigging storage, a refinery, a factory, and more. Alongside the factory modules are crates upon crates of fuel, ammo, steel, and bauxite, just enough to kickstart a new budding base.

The part of the hold not holding material goods was cramped with seven figures. The first one is Septimus Dillard-the newest Admiral in charge of the other six fellas with him. He looks hopelessly at the other six in various states of catatonia. HMS Ark Royal gritted her teeth and clenched her eyes shut and can be overheard mumbling, "...ffins and penguins, razorbills and kingfishers, gannets and gulls…" IJN Haruna leans against Admiral Dillard clutching an Instant Repair Bucket, now filled with slick oil mixed with bile instead of repair fluid. IJN Shimakaze has her knees up to her chin on the bench, staring at the opposite wall with a dead but intense glare mumbling, "...ast,where'sthewatertoofastwhere'sthewater" on repeat. Heavy Cruiser Admiral Hipper religiously re-inspects the Cargo Manifest for perhaps the 56th time. While all that's happening, USS Fletcher sits at Dillard's feet mumbling through a list of her sisters, "Fullam, Hudson, Pringle, no wait. It's Fullams, Hudson, Hutchins, then Pringles, then Stanley…" IJN Yamato sits calmly aside but leaning heavily on her parasol mast. "I, Yamato, am sure that we will be combat capable once we are back on the oceans again."

He could only nod. Airsick shipgirls. Now that's a sight if he had ever seen one. He was glad for it though; they won't notice his nervousness. He's aced the simulations, he's raised himself up above his peers, and he's done pretty well for himself. However, this will be his first command by himself. No overview except the Big Boss SecNav, no second chances with lost units, and having command over six very attractive young women. He shook himself. - _No, don't think about that-._ He took a breath and looked out the window. - _That's the shittiest looking base if I've ever seen one. If I knew getting top scores results in this Derelict... heh."_

Base Derelict was a Soviet-era Offshore Drilling Platform located on the Bering Sea. The collapse of the Union left a completed structural platform primed to drill and pump. It has fell into disrepair and forgotten. Until now, it has played host for nesting seagulls and albatross. Now it will roar back to life as the home of Task Force "Clapper" 98.

As the chopper softly lands on the widest, flattest possible area on the rig deck, the shipgirls immediately throw themselves out to hug the pitted sheet metal. They all immediately fell through. In Yamato's case stopping after crashing through three levels. "Ugh, I'm going to have my hands full with these fellas." His left hand lowered from his face. "Alright ladies," he shouted down the holes, "when you get back up here, please help me with unloading the chopper. I don't think it can stay here long if these holes are any indication." They meekly climbed back up some stairs sporting some minor rips on their clothes. "Sorry boss, but, ya'know. Boats are to water, not to choppers." Fletcher stuck her toungue out and gave a small grin.

Then they all whipped their heads as one to a distant point on the horizon. Admiral Hipper spoke up, "Mein Admiral, there are enemy contacts, approximately fifteen, less than twenty. ETA twenty minutes until arrival. There is no ship over heavy cruiser tonnage. Please advise."

He looks at the holes in the sheet metal, then at the shipgirls, then at the horizon. His smile isn't pleasant. Nope, not at all.

}*{

Ri-Class looked over at the Ne-Class, then at the obviously flagging destroyers behind them.

R- _..._ -R  
N- _Confident_ _Confirmation_ -N  
R- _..._ -R  
N- _Confirmation-_ N  
R- _..._ -R  
N- _Unsure Confirmation_ -N  
R- _Last one. Secure. Report_ -R  
N- _Meek Apology_ -N

}*{

"Haruna is not okay with this.", Haruna.  
"Are...are you sure about this, Admiral.", Yamato.  
"Let'sgoLet'sgoLet'sgo!", Shimakaze.  
"Shells for everyone!", Fletcher.  
"Can't be that bad", Admiral Hipper  
"My joints are too old, my planes are too fragile, what is this madness?!.", Ark Royal

"Madness? These! Are! Orders!" Admiral Dillard shouted from above them. "Deploy! Sturm! Banzai!"

"Hey, flyboys, get a drone up. I'd like a recording of this. It'll be grand rewatching the combat footage."

}*{

"For Queen and Country! Ark Royal, underway!" Her armor glistened as a quiver filled with Fairey Swordfish arrows appeared on her right hip. An English Longbow with runway limbs appeared in her left hand. She quickly launches two squadrons before hitting the water with a large splash. "BLOODY BARMY ADMIRAL AND HIS BLOODY BARMY IDEAS!"

"Shimikaze! On the way!" Renhoushou-chans manifested around her, flippers flapping in panic due to freefall. Torpedo mounts appeared, strapped to her back. She hit the water at full steam, bolting towards the enemy, now a visible black speck on the horizon. "WAHOO!"

Admiral Hipper drops down, guns blooming from the small of her back on an X-frame. She cocks her smaller hand-held guns and sights the enemy. " _Deutscher_ sights _ist überlegen! Feuer_!" She ripple fires her guns as she advances in Shimakaze's wake.

"Weeee!" Fletcher giggles as the wind catches her loose shirt and shorts. Torpedo tubes appear on her legs, just above the knees. An anti-aircraft studded super structure appears on her back. Three guns appear on her hips, two on the right, one on the left. She then bobs her way towards the enemy whilst happily delivering freedom pellets in their general direction.

Haruna manifests her rigging, two forward hulls on each side each holding two turrets. It is connected to her twin funneled backpack. "THIS IS NOT OKAY!" She goes full throttle after settling on the water and trailing alongside Admiral Hipper and Fletcher, holding for the perfect opportunity to fire her shots.

AR- **Two Heavy Cruisers: Ri and Ne-Class. Sixteen Destroyers, mix of I, Ro's, and Ha's.** -AR

Yamato was a little more graceless. Her nervousness made her manifest her rigging while waiting on the edge of the platform. The crumbling concrete could not deal with the sudden addition of twelve 46cm cannons and a fuck-ton of armor. IJN Yamato, pride of the Japanese Navy, took a tumble towards the churned sea below. She stuck the landing, powerful legs absorbing the shock but displacing a massive wave.

The wave struck Admiral Hipper, who adjusted for the speed boost and continued bursting accurate fire with standard German efficiency. Ark Royal nearly ate seawater as the wave threatened to turn her bow over stern-a wave of British slurs spewed from her mouth alongside salt water. Fletcher rode the wave like a bath toy, her tracers dipping over the target, then under, then on target. Haruna was about to take her shot when the wave hit. Tears came to her eyes as her perfectly aimed shots arced over the target. "Why does this happen to me?" "Goingevenfaster!" crowed Shimakaze as she rides the wave going for the torpedo flank. "Sorry! Clear the firing lane!", came Yamato's shout precisely two and a half seconds before sending twelve Type 3 Beehive Rounds in a high-reaching arc towards the two cruisers and sixteen destroyers.

Tears came to the eyes of the airmen and Admiral Dillard. "So much firepower… I'll need a change of pants after this is done." The two airmen could only nod their heads in agreement, covers held over their chests.

}*{

The Abyssals were _not_ having a good time. The orders from on high directed them to several coordinates, secure them, and wait for further orders. However, for some _inexplicable_ reason, the Ne-Class kept screwing up navigation and they could only get to an old abandoned oil rig. Then the planes showed up, then the shells came flying in, then torpedoes were detected off the starboard bow, then their world exploded into shards of metal and flame. Through it all, the Ri-Class just gave a dead-eyed stare into the panicking Ne-Class's eyes.

}*{

S- **This is Shimakaze, everything is mopped up, no survivors. Operation Success.** -S  
AH- **An excellent battle and a competent plan, mad-hatted as it can be. It will be interesting working with you in the future, _mein Admiral_.**-AH  
AR- **Bloody spotting duty again, give me a kill for Chrissakes!** -AR  
F- **I may or may not have any ammo left. Anybody got spare five inchers and 40mm?** -F  
Y- **So sorry! I'll repair it, I swear! I'm sorry Haruna! SORRY!** -Y  
H- ***Sniff*** -H

}*{ -A/N- }*{

A lot more lighthearted this time. I didn't wanna booli Haruna, she's already had it too hard. Haruna, everything will be okay later. Everything will b̨ȩ...o̭̱̥̻͢k̶̖̜a͇͕̗y҉͈.̢͙͔.

Writing Zekamashi's dialogue was hard cos it's ingrained in me to Put. A. Space. After. Every. Word. Blegh.

I initially wanted to add USS Intrepid (CV-11) cos she's like a 20 minute commute from my apartment. But then I decided, she'll have her own story, "The Fighting I + 1". Title subject to change. Coming Soon™. Ark Royal came to mind cos Swordfishies-three fellas in a biplane slinging a death tube at other boats.

I think I've somewhat figured out the formatting of this site ( _kinda?_ ) so, things that should have no space between should probably not have space between them from now on.

Updates will not be consistent, but I definitely will try to update within two days to three weeks between each. Cos RL stuff. Reason for this chapter: sitting down and doing a quick skim of Wikipedia on ships, birds, and other shtuff and deciding their personalities. Shima's got next to no info 'sides "engine test bed". Wiki-Searching was fun-Intrepid launched and contributed to the sinking of Musashi. Wow.

The more you know.

Up Next, a real, more in-depth meeting with the crew and some other stuff that i'll come up with as I write it.

You see something you like, hit that fav/follow button and or send me chocolate and graham crackers.

Cheers.


	4. Chapter Four

Thanks for reading all!

Cheers to **E-50MasterRace** for following!

 **Lord Adhes,** I've read your PM and I've kept your messages, statements, and critique in mind. Thanks for the help!

Basically, 1 Chapter became a 3 Chapter Plot Bunny.

I lied about the two weeks thing.

I'm sorry.

 **Disclaimer: Universe and recognizable characters belong to their respective owners. I own my OC's and plot, and marshmallows, and chocolate, and some graham crackers.**

}*{ BO,MD }*{ 4 }*{

Base Derelict slowly lights up in the low summer sun as the fairies steadily upgrade and restart outdated systems. Soon enough, the low hum of a generator permeates throughout the base hallways alongside warm pastel yellow lights. The lights finally stop flickering in the office where Admiral Dillard holds a meeting with his fleet.

"Congratulations for beating back that surprise force, ladies. From today onwards, I, Septimus Dillard, will be your new admiral. From the looks of things, some of you are pretty gosh danged experienced, while some of you are definitely lacking said experience. Please, introduce yourselves while we're on the ground, not in a helicopter." Admiral Dillard stands before six sitting shipgirls in his small but comfortable office.

"IJNShimikazehere!Keepitshort!Gottagofast!Rescueanythingindistressassoonaspossible!Can'thitwhat'snothterebucko!" She finishes with hands on her hips, a gleaming grin on her face, and unsurprisingly not out of breath after her introduction. _Deny access to espresso and energy drinks._ Admiral Dillard thought to himself, "Thank you Shimakaze, congratulations on the torpedo run. Eleven out of fifteen hits. You've crippled most of the enemy and made them nice little targets for the big guns."

"I am IJN Haruna, Kongou class fast-battleship. I'm usually better than this! I'm sorry I couldn't do much!" _-Sniff-_ " "Haruna will do her best!" _Very spirited, seems she's undergoing an unlucky streak at the moment. Perhaps a few days of R &R will get her to loosen up and ward off Murphy. _"It's alright Haruna, relax for a few days. Maybe do your miko hocus pocus and ward off Murphy while you're at it. Regardless, I can see that you are indeed a very focused individual. Whatever you plan to do, I know you will see it through."

"I am IJN Yamato. You are the fifth admiral to hold command over me. I have been transferred due to previous bases being unable to field the necessary resources to send me into combat. I have instead taken over most of their paperwork. If you need to requisition anything from pajamas to anything short of fissile material, you can count on me!" Yamato stands tall and regal, yet strained as she says this. _That amount of firepower is indeed awesome, but it's already eaten through ¾ of our starting stock. That explains her eager fumble into the sea. Good to know that she can handle paperwork, but I will definitely try to find a way to bring her into battle without guilt of consuming too much resources._ "You've done well, Yamato. I have a few ideas on how to get you to shoot those guns and patrol with the fleet without worry of resource impact. Thanks for offering to do paperwork with me. I will sure be glad to work with you.

"HMS Ark Royal here. I'm going to say what I think everyone is thinking. 30 meter drop into the ocean while summoning rigging?! Are you daft?" _Ahem_ She composes herself and starts again, "HMS Ark Royal, one of the first dedicated built aircraft carriers. Whatever you want identified, I can spot it for you and tell you what it's had for breakfast." Then she mumbles to herself, " _Queen knows how experienced my pilots are at spotting."_ "Thank you for identifying them and relaying great targeting information. Do not sell yourself short." Admiral Hipper reassures Ark Royal. "What she said," agreed Admiral Dillard, "I'll try to hook you up with some runs that'll get you some prime kills." _Gotta keep her out of my private stash, she's a sharp hunter._

"Kriegsmarine Admiral Hipper, at your service. Transfer from Base Saffron in the Baltic Sea." She leans against the wall with a hunter's air. "Range twice, shoot once. Whatever you need done, it will be completed. It's nice to work in the cold waters again. I'll make sure that everyone here gets the necessary training to excel and exceed, personally." She flashes a shark-like grin. _Well, there is my trainer. She's going to be hard on them but they'll turn out better than ever. I'll probably ask her for some workout advice as well._ "Thank you, Admiral Hipper. I'm sure you'll get the rest up to speed on operating in the Bering Sea."

"USS Fletcher here! How are you all doing today? Hah! I know you all are feeling that rush after that fight! I know I am! Sling all ammo at everything that moves, you'll for sure get them!" Fletcher bounces in her seat as she introduces herself. Admiral Hipper stares at her reproachfully while everyone else smiles at her antics. "Well, do try to learn some trigger discipline, Fletcher. We just got this base and don't have much stockpiled. I love your enthusiasm, we'll need that in the coming times."

The shipgirls all leaned forward, sensing a change in the mood. "Perhaps some of you all know, the reason I'm here is that a new menace has been going around, having burned down fourteen bases. It's worrying that something is capable of such feats. Thankfully, we are not posted anywhere near those locations. However, I wish for us all to be prepared in the event of something similar occurring here. As of now, welcome to Task Force "Clapper" 98 of Base Derelict! Let's get stuff done while the northern sun still shines, shall we?"

}*{

"HEY! Hey, hey hey." An American Fairy shoves a blueprint into another fairy's face. "Nein! Ja, ja ja. JA!" A German Fairy pushes it out of her face and smacks a wrench over her american counterparts head. "Oi." A British Fairy passes some tea over to a Japanese Fairy. "Desu, desu?" "Oi." The Brit sighs. "OI!" she points over to the mess of pipes and drill bits with a stiff arm. "Oi! Oi, oi oi oi OI!"

"Ja." "Hey."

}*{

"Dismissed, mess hall should be up and running. Yamato, stay a while please." A resounding "SIR!" from five throats and a quick salute left Yamato and the Admiral alone.

"You are a battleship," started Admiral Dillard upon the door closing. "With large guns and heavy armor. Frankly, i feel it is a waste relegating you to mere paperwork, a desk job. Do you feel the same, Yamato?"

"I have long resigned myself to this fate, sir, but today's action have left me exhilarated and wanting. Thank you for this opportunity." She cocks her head and states,"You have a plan to send me back into action, even with my relative combat inexperience."

"I do. Right this moment, I've convinced several of the fairies to get this Derelict up and running as well as setting up a refinery and dispensary on Level 2. We have also unpacked several drone units that will trawl the seabed for minerals. Hopefully we can get it all operational within a week." He turns back to Yamato, a slight grin on his face. "You'll be able to train with the best, sortie with the rest, and be back here to relax in the nest! Haha!"

"Thank you for this opportunity, my Admiral." She bows deeply and rises again with a roaring flame in her eyes.

"We may have started with a small victory, but I expect great things from all of you. But for you, IJN Yamato, protect your fellow soldiers, protect your home, and obliterate all who dares to threaten you and your charges. Understood?"

Yamato stands even more at attention with a razor sharp salute, "Sir, yes sir!"

}*{

}*{ A/N }*{  
You've all probably given up on this story, [plz no. :(] I've starting writing one chapter then it got big, then I've decided to split it into three cos it feels better that way. This chapter may feel short cos I wanted to do a more in depth backstory to the crew and the base. Then I thought, this isn't going to be a Slice of Life.

Welp, one down, two to go. I'm jumping between writing the three cos of a plague of idea fountains and what-ifs. As well as anticipating any continuity issues that might arise and connections between plot and idea points.

If you are curious where I have been, well, adult stuff is hard when I have no questions to ask about a subject I have no clue about to anyone else. So, moral of story, ask shit about shit you don't understand. Most fellas who'll answer will be happy to help, the other fellas will want to scam the heck outta you. Also Honkai Impact 3 and 100% Orange Juice with friends for like almost every night.

Hope you enjoyed, the two other chapters will shortly follow Soon™ .

Send friends. I have too many s'mores for one person to eat.


	5. Chapter Five

Welcome to a new chapter, fellas.  
And welcome, **Killroy122496,** and **Hoten** for joining the follow and favorite list! Thanks for choosing to read this piece.

Any reviews you send I will reply with PM's. Any tips and thoughts will be happily recieved. Any flames(none yet- _crosses fingers_ ) I receive shall fuel my s'mores campfire even further.

Enjoy.

 **Disclaimer: Universe and recognizable characters belong to their respective owners. I own my OC's and plot, and marshmallows, and chocolate, and some graham crackers, shared with a few friends.**

}*{

Base Charity is a shipgirl base on an island. It boasts an impressive airfield capable of supplying four full six battleship teams for three full weeks of heavy action, a chain of coastal batteries aimed at all directions at the seas horizon, and blisters of anti-air installations creating a net of airbourne deterrent spanning the entire island. It is also here where the majority of shipgirls and admirals return for rest and relaxation before returning to the front. At this moment in time, Base Charity plays host to three admirals and eleven shipgirls. Five of them are in critical condition and resting at the repair docks. The shortest timer reads 1D:22H:33M:12S.

}*{

"So, which fleet are you from?" Tashkent asks a beat up Iowa. "Admiral Gilbert… Base Trek. Not that it matters anymore." Iowa's eye lost its sparkle, the other lost to a dud 300kg AP bomb. She looks forlornly over to an unconscious Bismarck, then at her timer: 4D:00H:22M:57S.

"We couldn't do anything. I was with my group coming back from a resource expedition, laden with fuel and metals, low on fuel, tired yet relaxed." She rotates her shoulder blades, wincing when her damage control fairies let out piercingly harsh "Hey!'s" in protest. "Then I see this figure just standing there. I think it sensed me, then charged us like we were fresh blood and it, a rabid shark. We got a few shots in, but they didn't seem to do jack shit." Her gunnery fairies let out grumbly "Hey's". "Then the torpedoes came. Oh, by Davy Jones the torpedoes." Iowa tries to draw her slashed knees to her chin. "Two heavy cruisers, one escort carrier, and one destroyer, just gone in an instant. They missed me, however." She then looks at Bismarck fondly again. "Maybe it's her service record but she just jumped straight onto my back like I'm a table and torpedoes were mice." The small smile fell. "Twenty-Four battleship calibre shells, AP and HE mix. Everything critically damaged, she went unconscious but she's still alive. She protected me. All the while, I'm there trying to dodge torpedoes, shells, and running from the closing combatant with her body on my back." Her legs ache at the thought. Then she shadows her eyes and looks down at her twisted ankles, her slashed thighs, and blown open stomach. "I swear, my radar went white with aerial contacts. More bombs and torpedoes than I can remember ever seeing in my entire service career with Admiral… Admiral Gilbert." Tears slide down her cheeks upon mentioning her late Admiral. "That thing wore a hoodie, armed with sharp claws and teeth, hosting a tail with even more planes joining the swarm. It slashed my legs to pieces. Then watched me when the torpedoes and bombs finally struck me." Iowa then gestures to her wounds. "Seven torpedoes taken, twenty-two bomb penetrations with twenty detonations, four magazines almost detonated if they were filled, three hits to the citadel, lost fire control and radar, and shafts obliterated into slivers." The other four shipgirls look at her in a growing mix of admiration and horror.

"Sorry. I'm sorry you had to suffer more when I found you." Gangut winced as her jaw twinged painfully around her pipe. "No no, I don't think I was awake when you came to me. I'm glad I'm still alive. I do not want to die just yet. I am afraid of what I might become if I sink." Iowa rushes to comfort the Russian battleship.

"Why were you there around my area though?" Iowa asks the Russian ships. Gangut motions to Tashkent with her pipe, obviously not comfortable talking with almost half of her jaw gone.

"It was when the sun was high and bright over the icebergs. Shch-117, our submarine on patrol, detected them and alerted us. However, we didn't have the firepower to face them: two battleships with elite auras, one Wo-class, definitely with a elite flagship aura, and three small vessels, each with a small aura as well. I don't know how Shch-117 knows this but perhaps her random disappearances may have something to do with it." "Khorosho," agrees a drowsy Verniy, "she comes back with so many nice things though. Weird, but nice"

"Yes, comrade Tiny One, she's a weird one but she's quite useful when she's around." Tashkent turns back to her audience. "Well, Admiral Sidorvich decided to escape. Sister Leningrad decided to stay at the base, bring glory worthy of her name. I know not her fate. But I do know the planes spotted us. We have lost Sister Moskva to their bombs and Sister Gangut took a bomb that almost hit the Admiral." "Bitch took my best pipe too." grumbled the surly battleship. "At least we are still alive." Tashkent fires back with a glare. "We escaped, found your bodies, and towed you here to Base Charity."

Iowa was fast asleep, leaning against Bismarck's shoulder.

"Sigh, leave it to the Americans to fall asleep to a war story."

"Mmph"

"Khoro… yawn*...sho…"

}*{

"Shankee… much, Berry." Admiral Sidorvich slurs with his head down near an empty pint glass.

"Only way I can help you today mate." Admiral Barry replies and refills it with some whiskey. "Why are you folks here with some of Gilbert's girls? In such bad shape as well."

"Sasha, elites, flagships, escape, fucking bombs, my Leningrad, oh, sweet Moskva." Sidorvich says with gulps of whiskey between each word. "Give me the bottle man."

"And Gilbert's girls?" Barry slides the whiskey over to Sidorvich.

"Found 'em like that. Must've been hit first by the same bastards. Before us." He shoves away the offered whiskey and gestures for the vodka bottle.

"Yep, you'll need it. Here's to Gilbert and Leningrad, may they find peace, wherever they are now."

*Clink

}*{ EXTRA }*{

Bullets whizz over their masks as Ria and Nerissa took cover behind a shop counter. Nerissa was curled in a ball around her matte black m249 LMG, spent casings all around her. Her mask was clear over her right eye, clearly showing panic and on the verge of tears. "I don't understand!" She wailed as Ria calmly returned fire with her Joceline O/U shotgun with its distinctive blue plaid paint job. Each blast from its long barrel took out at most two Heavy SWAT Units, popping their helmets into the sunny DC sky. Ria smoothly slid back to cover next to Nerissa and calmly reloaded her shotgun.

"It was only robbing a Jewelry Store! Why is all of DC heavy response here?!" *Bang Bang!* Two FBI Riot Shielders collapsed as the AP slugs bit through the armor. She ducked once again before four near-simultaneous cracks of sniper bullets tore through where her head was. Ria looked at her own smart Two-Piece suit, her shotgun, and some electronic jammers. She looked over at Nerissa, shivering in her ICTV Bomb Squad vest, her LMG and bandolier of grenades minus one. The pin and spoon in her shaking hands and a smoking crater filled with civilian bits and pieces nearby. _**CLOMP CLOMP CLOMP "YOU'RE UP AGAINST A WALL! AND I AM THE FUCKING WALL!"**_ " _We are fucked."_ Thought Ria. _wwhheEE_ _ **EEEE**_ " _ **TASERS CHARGED AND READY!"**_ " _Deefinitely fucked."_ "I was only reaching for my knife!" screams Nerissa. wuu _lulu_ _ **luluLULULULULULU *SMASH!* "Alright ladies! The safeword is police brutality!"**_ " _sigh"_

While Ria was getting beat down by a Cloaker doing his best impression of a drum solo, she glared daggers at Nerissa getting tazed and beat down by a full squad of tasers and a Z-SkullDozer's Russian KPV HMG. _Two years in jail waiting for a shitty drill ain't worth this shit anymore._ Was her last thought before succumbing to a particularly enthusiastic nightstick hit.

Jewelry Store: FAILED  
RISK: * * * * * * One Down  
*You failed. No money will be paid out, all assets have been locked, and any valuables you held have been confiscated*

}*{ A/N }*{

 **I uh, don't have a reviewer/beta-reader fellow to point out any typos I've got here. You don't have to beta, just point out some typos/weird words here and there for me. Pretty please?**

 **Some after action reports/narrations to solidify the antagonists. Perhaps you'd all want to see more of those fellas from their point of view? Your answer is yes, cost the next chapter has already been written. Just pending some self-review.**

 **Another addition to the "Ri-ally skits". Perhaps you fellas have heard of PayDay 2? Newbie shenanigans are the best shenanigans, especially when you gotta carry them hard and it still ends badly for you anyway.**

 **We now visit Big Comrade, Comrade Medium One, and Comrade Tiny One. I hope I've introduced them true to their character.**

 **Krupp Stars is my ship name for Bismarck and Iowa. I ship 'em.**

 **Headcannon: Soviet Submarine Shchuka-117 is Spartan-117. IDK why but when I saw that there was a real sub in the WW2 era with that designation, it's what I immediately jumped to. Maybe I'll make a S-117 one shot in the future Soon™. I'm not really familiar with the Halo verse but I'm pretty sure Humanity wins the ground battles therefore purples glass the planets is all I need to know.**

 **Send blankets and camping supplies. We'd like to be more comfortable sharing s'mores 'round the fire.**


	6. Chapter Six

We gots around **1000+** total views on this here book/series/thing! WOO!

Caution, lots of spaghetti ahead.

 **Disclaimer: Universe and recognizable characters belong to their respective owners. I own my OC's and plot, and the small tent city now dubbed "S'moresVille".**

}Λ{

A scarred Wo-Class stands at attention just outside a naval base's passive detection range, waiting since midnight while her subordinates carried out their directives.

W- _Status_ -W

Ru1- _Munitions:80%. Fuel 45%. In Position. Ready._ -Ru1  
Ru2- _Munitions:82%. Fuel 39%. In Position. Ready._ -Ru2  
Re- _Munitions:50%. Fuel 67%%. In Position. Ready._ -Re  
Chi1- _Munitions:25%. Fuel 35%. In Position. Ready._ -Chi1  
Chi2- _Munitions:25%. Fuel 35%. In Position. Ready.-_ Chi2

W- _Attack._ -W

}*{

* _Yawn*_ "Is our patrol almost over? There's nothing out here. C'moon." Samidare whined. "There's still two hours left. You have two eyes, I have one. Stay alert regardless." Kiso gruffly muttered. "I saw what's under there though, !" Samidare was cut off when Kiso roughly clamped her mouth shut with a waterline red face. "Shh shhh shhh! We do not speak of that time!" "But it's just you, me, and the cold blue sea." Samidare replied, head cocked to the side.

"Ye... *tink* hm?" Kiso paused when her boot made contact with some flotsam and debris. "Anyways," she looks back up to Samidare's face just as an explosion from a naval mine critically crippled the destroyer. Kiso instinctively launched her floatplane, pulled over hard to port, turned on her searchlights, and readied her rigging, sweeping the ocean surface for enemy combatants.

"Ki... Kiso, it hurts... so much." Samidare pleaded with glazed, teary eyes trying to focus on Kiso's last position. "JUST HANG ON! I'll KILL THAT SON-OF-A-BITCH! Then we'll go back to base, we'll...!" `THOOM THOOM THOOM THOOM!` Kiso spots a shape with her floatplane and quickly launches a salvo at it, the rolling thunder of seven 14cm/50's further shattering the ocean's calm silence. Another explosion rocked the sea as Samidare's magazines detonated from internal fires. As she watches the shells arc towards the target, she reaches for her ears, readying a message for her radio fairies to send to Base Charity. "DESU!" A crew fairy screeched as it spotted a spread of torpedoes nearly 100 meters off her vulnerable starboard side. "FUCK!" She quickly poured poured on the throttle and turned port, back into the minefield. "Desu, Desu! DESUUU!" Another spread of torpedoes appeared, this time catching her in the middle of the maneuver.

*tink*. An awfully small sound to notice within the midst of battle. But Kiso noticed it, as well as the erupting blossom of flame and shrapnel from the free-floating Abyssal Contact Mine at her feet. `Bastards` Kiso thought, as she closed her eyes. The mine tore off her legs. The torpedoes destroyed her body as it toppled over into the depths.

Chi1- _Success, patrol taken out._ -Chi1

Chi2- _Success, slight damage._ -Chi2

Wo- _Commence bombardment. Engage stragglers_.-Wo

}*{

Ru1/Ru2 - _Commencing Bombardment_ \- Ru1/Ru2

Each Ru-Class battleship was opposite the other facing the island. They were far enough where they can easily dodge coastal battery fire while also being able to blanket the island in overlapping salvos of high explosive. Each battleship fired as fast as they could, alternating shots and calling out targets for maximum effect.

Ru1- _First coastal battery destroyed_ -Ru1

Ru2- _Airfield out of commission_ -Ru2

There was a slight pause in the firing pattern before shells started to fly out at a faster rate and with greater precision, auras flaring and snapping around the competing Ru's.

Overhead, Wo's strike fighters started to fill the air with their signature keening wails and mad cackles.

}*{

Barry blearily opened his eyes to disant explosions and the rattling of his pint of absinthe, now nearly empty. "FFFuuuuck." He moaned. He looked over to his Russian counterpart, who was astoundingly sober and panicked. "Wass wrong Siddy? YOOUuu look... thpooked, heheh." "Now is not time, чёрт!. They are here, I can feel it." Admiral Sidorvich tried to stand up but was pulled down by a drunk Barry, "C'mon maaan. Is just Kisoo~. She playin' baseball right nooow." "What kind of baseball involves explosions?!" Sidorvich shouted incredulously at the drunken man. "Naval Mine Baseball, you dummy. She's got like, 400 of 'em." Sidorvich could only stare as Barry flung his arms high into the air as wide as he can with a big dopey grin on his face. "Give me that drink, I'm too sober for this. At least back in my base we had order and discipline."

"Just shaddup and driink! Loosen uup man!" Admiral Sidorvich glared reproachfully at his friend before sighing and lifted the bottle to his lips. His throat burned and the room was immolated in shrapnel and flames.

}*{

I-13 mumbled as the rumbling of explosions rocked her dreams of diving with manta rays and Kongou's scones. She went to punch her sister, I-14, in her bleary state. Her fist splashes into a puddle of liquid instead. "Mmmnyeh?" She rubbed her eyes with the fist and tried to look over at her sister.

Her sister stared back, the light from distant fires and bombardment clearly illuminated I-14's body, as well as the deep slash across her throat, blood and fuel dripping down onto her pajamas. Shaking, she touches her face, hyper aware that the liquid around her right eye is her sister's blood. "Wha.. what… whaaAAH!" Her hyperventilating was cut short when a pale white knife hand stabbed through her spine and out her chest. With the last of her strength, she turns to see pinprick pupils over a shark's grin within a dark hood.

}*{

The Re-Class was having quite a blast prowling through the shrieking Base Charity. The Ru's have already knocked out the power grid, several key facilities, and the barracks where stationed sailors and shipgirls slept. Her mission was to destroy any surviving personnel and infrastructure.

Her cloven hooves made no noise as she walked down the middle of the main street. Her eyes kept darting curiously over the savaged buildings as she licks the last of the submarine sibling's blood from her hands.

A shell screamed out from her left and was deflected by her tail's armored deck. The rest of the salvo disintegrated against the building husks. A Nagato burst through one of the walls, her rumpled squirrel-patterned pajama did nothing to hide her fury nor the forest of guns leveled at the Re-class.

Re- _*Panicked Pleas*_ -Re  
Wo- _Two Minutes-_ Wo

Ru1, Ru2- _Heavy fire support, on the way_ -Ru1, Ru2

The Re quickly juked out of the way of Nagato's secondary fire into the maze of debris. " _ **GET BACK HERE SCUM!**_ " Nagato's deep roar followed the Re. " _ **YOU ARE DEAD TO ME!**_ " An immense blastwave followed Nagato's fury-ladden shells. Shells from the Ru's bombardment landed around her, providing smoke cover. Two clipped her shoulders and spun the Re around like a toy top. Disoriented, it stumbled and landed stern first in the middle of a clearing with a front-row seat of an Ascended Nagato promising agony and retribution beyond imagination.

Zerrr.. **KEEEEE!** _ **BRRRRRRM**_ A blastwave from a Ru's shell was enough to throw off Nagato's following salvo.

The Re quickly reorients, uses her tail to throw up a smokescreen and then dashes further into the ruins.

}*{

Nagato did not have a good night. As Admiral Barry's secretary she was responsible for catching up on his paperwork inevitably caused by taking in the wounded shipgirls. It was even more annoying for her when Barry decided to get drunk with Sidorvich before completing said paperwork.

She was about to get food, then head to her bunk when the base started to explode.

A short chase, it was cornered, then her world was wreathed in flame and blastwaves.

A smokescreen takes the place of where the Abyssal previously was. The ringing in her ears fades into the crackle of flames and the crumbling of settling debris. She reloads her main guns and pans her secondary guns over the mess. A large breeze blows aways the smoke and ruffles her miraculously still-intact squirrel-print pajamas. "Gotcha!" She spots movement and quickly sends a barrage in that direction. She brings the rest of her secondaries and primaries around and further saturates the area as well as everything else further behind it.

Another barrage from the sea throws off her aim and further hides the Abyssal from her sights. This time Nagato did not escape unscathed. Turrets One and Two hang uselessly on her Left Side. One with all three barrels twisted and the other having taken a devastating round to the turret ring. She holds her breath and instinctively braces for a magazine detonation. Her stomach grumbles mightily and she grins morbidly. "Can't detonate what's not there you LITTLE SHITS!" She brings her remaining secondaries around and reloads her primaries with her quickly depleting stocks for another round of Whack-an-Abyssal.

Her eyes missed the swarm of fighters and bombers coming in low to her location. The cackles and screeches were her only warning before the bombs impacted her vulnerable sides and back.

Disarmed and blinking through the pain and tears, Nagato lifts her head to where the Abyssal was last. Like a specter of death, the Re-Class strolls through the smoke and flames in her black hoodie, steps slow and deliberate. A blink and it seemed to pull something from its jacket. Another blink and a cough and Nagato looked up into the barrel of a human weapon, but bastardized with Abyssal steel. She caught a glimpse of an unholy light at the tip of the bullet before the Re pulled the trigger.

}*{

The Wo-Class Aircraft Carrier walks among the cooling debris of the base. She controlled the air and sea, now she controls this land, formerly known as Base Charity.

W- _Status_ -W  
Ru1- _Munitions:12%. Fuel 9%. Require Resupply._ -Ru1  
Ru2- _Munitions:6%. Fuel 12%. Require Resupply._ -Ru2  
Re- _Munitions:1%. Fuel 5%%. Require Resupply._ -Re  
Chi1- _Munitions:13%. Fuel 7%. Require Resupply._ -Chi1  
Chi2- _Munitions:11%. Fuel 9%. Require Resupply.-_ Chi2

The raid was perhaps too effective, all storage facilities destroyed, with pockets of precious resources spread throughout and under the debris. Wo looked at the Re next to her.

W- _Unacceptable collateral damage_ -W  
Re- _Abashed apology_ -Re  
W- _Locate and gather remaining resources._ -W  
Re- _Dejected affirmative_ -Re  
W-...-W  
W- _Approval_ -W

Wo proudly watches the Re skip its way through the ruins. She then radios for the Ru's and Chi's.

W- _Ru's, repair all coastal and flak guns. Chi's locate communications array._ -W  
Ru's- _Affirmative_ -Ru's  
Chi's- _Located and repaired, awaiting message_ -Chi's  
W- _Send open request for fuel:nonurgent. Recipients: new and near bases_ -W

Wo opens her eyes and relaxes. _A temporary base. Let us rest and continue from here._

}*{

TBH, I really want to give the Chis and Rus a name. It's getting bothersome af doing that for The A-Squad. I've got a name all ready for my Wo and Re. You fellas think it'll be a good idea for that?

Re's Sneaking Theme song: Hotline Miami - Release  
Wo's Plane's Theme song: Hotline Miami - Hydrogen

Hm. I feel as though I've used too many prepositions here. Any tips on how to avoid that in the future? It just feels… I dunno, awkward.

College starting up. See you all later!


End file.
